Under A Paper Moon
by BeGodlyBeLynn
Summary: Harkness had known about the runaway from Vault 101, but he hadn't cared. He had enough fires to put out in Rivet City as it was. It wasn't long before he realized that she was a serious fire hazard, and that the threads of their fates were irrevocably intertwined.
1. Baby, Don't Yell

1: Baby, Don't Yell

"Isabel!" He ran up the stairs, his voice rising in panic. "Isabel!"

A muffled shout answered his cries. He hurtled down the hallway, following the sound of her voice. He skidded to a halt in the doorway.

The first thing he could register was her dark eyes, wide with fear and confusion, staring back at him. Too soon, relief overtook him.

"Isabel!" he cried in half relief, half irritability. "Shit, I thought you were a goner..."

His words died on his lips as he saw the man in the room. The gag in her mouth. The blood on her clothes. Slowly, he put two and two together.

"What the fuck?" he demanded, even as he knew that she could not answer. He crossed the room towards her. She screamed through the gag, shaking her head frantically. Every line of her face was etched in terror. The fear was contagious; it set in his chest, too. He stopped in his tracks and followed her terrified gaze down, to the man kneeling on the floor.

The man turned his hand up towards the ceiling, revealing the presence of something small, blinking blue, in his palm. He didn't need telling what it was. He already knew.

His eyes returned to the man in the room. His once-neat hair was a mess, matted with blood and grime. His face, once well-shaven and clean, was shiny with sweat and streaked with mud. But his piercing blue eyes had not changed. They drilled two holes in his skull. His eyes were burning with the fires of a man avenged. Isabel's eyes reflected that fire.

"Don't do it," he warned him, fear constricting his chest. "I swear to God, don't do it—"

The man's hands joined momentarily, and then abruptly jerked apart. And then everything happened at once.

He lurched forward, all in vain. He hoped to maybe knock it out of the man's hands, perhaps buy them a little time to take cover, but he was too far away and the trap had already been sprung. She turned her head away just as the blue in his hands exploded.

A blinding white light consumed his vision, his head spinning, his ears ringing, as he briefly registered falling to the floor. Pain ripped through every fiber of his body and he screamed aloud, only to realize that his vocal cords would no longer obey him. He brought his arms up to his face. They were shaking madly with blue energy; he could feel the volts dancing in his head. His arms thudded to the ground. What...

His eyes returned to the girl, unmoving on the ground, her eyes glazed over in an eternal stare into nothing. Her hands twitched, but she showed no other signs of life. The sizzling remains of a pair of handcuffs hung from her limp wrist. He wondered if she was dead. He wondered if, indeed, _he_ was. It was his last thought before he lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>Looking back, Harkness always thought that his decision to pull bridge duty that night wasn't an accident, but fate, the prelude to a new chapter in his life. Life had managed to convince him that not everything happened for a reason, that everyone was perfectly prone to unforeseen, random disaster, but this, the fateful midnight meeting on a cool September night—he was sure that it had been destiny.<p>

He often wondered where he'd be if they'd never crossed paths. It might have been less painful, less confusing. But whenever he thought of what he had gained in the end…well, he still didn't really know exactly _what_ he'd gotten. Maybe it would turn out for the worst, but to be perfectly honest, he couldn't imagine things turning out any other way.

* * *

><p><strong>***TWO MONTHS EARLIER***<strong>

Looking back, Harkness always thought that his decision to pull bridge duty that night wasn't an accident, but fate.

The night in question was sometime in early autumn, about a week after Three Dog had first reported two people who'd escaped from Vault 101, of which one netted considerably more news than the other. Harkness had paid the reports little attention, but it was all the buzz in the Muddy Rudder and Vera's hotel (along with every other nook and cranny of Rivet City), so he caught little snippets back and forth:

"Oh, did you hear about that Vault girl, lost her father, poor dear…"

"…I heard she was only nineteen—did you hear what she did to the bomb in—"

"Megaton? Yes, I've also heard that she's a wanted woman…"

"A saint…ought to give her a medal…look at what she did for…"

"…Grayditch, I'm still not convinced that was a hoax. Fire-breathing ants? I call BS…"

"A criminal…ought to be put down like the animal she is…"

"…Don't be ridiculous, she's only a child…"

"Children can be murderers too, don't you remember…"

Harkness didn't quite know what this girl, a seeming newcomer to the Capitol Wasteland, had done to warrant such talk among the people, but he had a job to do and more than his fair share of fires to put out without thinking of that as well. So he paid it no mind and went about his relatively monotonous life until the girl in the blue jumpsuit showed up on the other side of the bridge, requesting entrance.

Harkness did a double take through a pair of binoculars. The girl was a curiosity to him not because of the blue Vault jumpsuit she wore—there had been another one who'd passed through not so long ago—but because of the little tidbits of news he picked up from around town. And what he saw didn't quite match up with the picture he'd kept in his head from the few things he knew. Soft brown eyes set in a delicate face conveyed a rather innocent image, marred only by a split lip still leaking blood. Even in the dim light he could see her hands wrapped in dirty bandages, probably from the trauma of gun use on delicate, soft-skinned palms. She couldn't be more than eighteen, he thought. Twenty, at most. Despite the all-over dirty look to her, her dark hair was still in a somewhat neat bun. There was a Chinese assault rifle hanging slack at her side and a backpack on her shoulders. The girl looked tired and her face was wet, as if she'd poured water over herself in an effort to stay awake. Already, her head had dropped to her chest. She looked less than threatening, but he was still wary.

Harkness lowered his binoculars. "Extend the bridge," he ordered.

The shriek of metal grinding on aged metal snapped her out of her trance pretty quickly. Her head snapped up and she seemed to take a second to collect herself before walking slowly and warily across the bridge, the rifle still hanging slack at her side. Harkness drew his weapon (more out of habit than anything else) and stepped forward, ready to confront her.

The bridge wasn't very long—only twenty or so feet at most—but it seemed infinitely longer that night. All the time while she walked, the girl's eyes somehow found his and did not look away. It was more than a little creepy; people in the Wasteland customarily avoided eye contact as a general rule. Eye contact was a delicate thing; too much marked you as a threat and too little singled you out as a target. She determinedly drilled him in the face with her piercing gaze, and Harkness couldn't decide whether she was a saint or a monster, and it scared him a little. He was usually good at reading people. But now, he couldn't decide if the look she was giving him was a challenge or an attempt to connect with him. Maybe it was both. Eyes were windows to the soul, after all…but he couldn't tell a damn thing from them.

"Hold it right there."When she got close enough, Harkness jerked his rifle and stopped her in her tracks. "State your business in Rivet City."

"Uhh." She blinked. "I'm just looking around."

"Looking around," he repeated, skeptical.

"Uhh, yeah," the girl stammered. "You know, like exploring."

Harkness raised an eyebrow. "Okay. So, explorer. Do you have a name?"

"Isabel."

"No last name?"

"No, sir."

He eyed her suspiciously one more time and decided that if anything, he could at least take her in a fight if she got out of hand. There was still something nagging at the back of his mind, but he decided to let it go. For now.

"You can go on in," he said finally. "But I'll be watching you. No funny business."

"I won't be around for long," she responded, brushing past him. It sounded almost like a promise to him.

Harkness turned to watch her stop, confronted by the two doors leading to the stairwell and marketplace. She eyed the signs over each one. He frowned. Was she literate? A lot of people in the Wasteland weren't. Usually, someone had to read the signs for newcomers.

"It's—" He opened his mouth, about to deliver the revelation that became a routine when he was on bridge duty, but then there was a sharp clang and she had disappeared through the door to the stairwell.

"…Closed," he finished lamely. Shaking his head, he motioned at the guard to bring the bridge back and followed her through the door. Not on purpose, mind you, he always went that way to get to the bridge tower. As he ascended the first set of stairs, Harkness saw the girl turn the corner at the end of the hall towards the Weatherly Hotel. Okay, so at least that was to be expected. He continued up the stairs, trying to shake the feeling that maybe he'd let a complete psychopath onto his boat. Maybe it was the odd manner in which she'd composed herself, or the incessant eye contact, or the creepy vibe that he got from her, but Harkness made a mental note to keep an eye on her at all times. He didn't know what her intentions were, and it scared him. People with veiled motives usually had malicious intentions, if Mister Burke was anything of an example. It was only luck that Harkness had run him out of Rivet City before he caused some real damage.

He had the feeling that he'd need more than a good night's sleep to shake off this apprehension that she was going to do something terrible to his ship. Harkness abruptly stopped in his tracks, thinking back to the buzz surrounding this girl, and turned on his heel towards the Weatherly Hotel. Vera might have some answers. At the very least, he'd have either the reassurance (or confirmation) that he was imagining things and she was nothing to worry about, or the revelation that she was, indeed, a security risk.

Either way, Harkness had a sick feeling that he wouldn't like the truth.

**A/N: This idea has been in my head for the longest time. Unfortunately, school starts in about four days, so we can all kiss timely updates of any fashion good-bye for now. D: I hope you've enjoyed this exposition, though, and please review!**


	2. You're Tearing A Hole

2: You're Tearing a Hole

Harkness waited several moments before following Isabel down the hallway and looking around the corner to see where she'd gone. All he managed to catch was the sight of a door closing, the door leading to Doctor Li's science lab. Strange, he thought, he'd expected her to go to the hotel. But then he shrugged. He still had time to talk with Vera Weatherly about Rivet City's newest visitor.

It seemed like Vera never slept. No matter what hour of the day (or night) it was, Harkness could always somehow count on her being awake and tending to business in her hotel lobby. It was really rather impressive. Often times, though, it wasn't exactly business rather than the gossip that somehow always found its way on the ship. It was as if she took it upon herself herself to be Rivet City's eyes and ears, so to speak.

"Harkness!" greeted Vera when she saw him, a broad smile on her face. "Hello, dear. What can I get you? Coffee? Tea? Nuka-Cola?"

"Actually…" Harkness scratched his chin. "I was wondering if you could tell me about someone."

Vera sighed in mock exasperation and gave him an amused, knowing look. "Again?" she chided him lightly. "I thought you were done with your…_investigations_."

He flushed a little. "It's something different," he protested. "That girl. The one everyone's talking about, the one who came from Vault 101. What's the deal with her, anyway?"

"Oh, so _now_ you're interested," she joked. "What's the occasion?"

"Well, I just let her onto the ship," he replied.

"You did what?" Vera almost shrieked. "You let _her_ onto this ship?"

Cold apprehension settled in his chest. "Yeah, I'm not comfortable about it either, that's why I'm here. She gave me a weird feeling. What have you been hearing about her?"

"Oh, sure, they all say she's a saint," she snarked lightly, handing a glass to her Mr. Handy. "But I don't like her."

Harkness raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"She's not very _likeable_, Harkness."

"Oh, really?" He hadn't meant for it to be a challenge, but she took it as such.

"She tinkered around with an atomic bomb, for Christ's sake!" exclaimed Vera, throwing her hands up in the air. "A live one! Undetonated, but live! They don't teach them how to disarm atomic bombs in Vault school, do they? I don't think skill got her through that alive. Sheer, dumb luck. That's all it was."

"Megaton didn't get destroyed, did it? We just got caravans from there yesterday," he countered, flustered.

"No, but it could have!" Vera shook her head. "She may have done some good things, Chief, but she's too reckless for her own good. Someone is going to get badly hurt one of these days if she's not careful. From what I can tell, it's already happened. I would keep an eye on her, if I were you."

"Yeah, no kidding," he muttered. "What else have you been hearing?"

"Well…" she thought for a bit. "There was that fiasco in Grayditch a while back…"

"What?"

"Well, I don't know if this is true…" She pursed her lips. "But I heard that she may or may not have wiped out the entire town."

A chill ran down his spine. "Wiped out—?"

"That's what I heard, at—"

Someone cleared their throat behind him. Harkness turned around to see the source of the noise and nearly jumped out of his skin. The Vault girl—Isabel—was standing there, waiting patiently by the door, her eyes on the both of them. Harkness suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He privately wondered how long she'd been there.

Vera awkwardly cleared her throat. "Is…is there anything else I can get you, Chief?"

"No," he replied, eyeing the newcomer suspiciously. "No, that's all. Thank you."

He brushed past the girl and left, heading straight for the bridge tower, his mind abuzz. What the hell had he just let on his ship? He had half a mind to drag her outside and shoot her in the back, just to be safe, but—no. He would not do something reckless on the premise of a baseless rumor. If she did something really egregious, he would step in, but…

All he had right now was his gut to rely on.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Isabel<em>**

_Go to the Memorial. Wait for the shops to open. Go to the Memorial. Wait for the shops to open._

Decisions, decisions…

One hundred and twenty caps.

One hundred and twenty fucking caps.

That was what the hotel lady had charged her. Isabel didn't have that kind of money. So she found herself climbing flight after flight of stairs, hoping to find something to alleviate her mind-numbing tiredness. What she wouldn't give for some goddamn coffee…

It was time for her to get real.

She had left the Vault with no armor, meager weaponry, and little to no currency at all. She was completely on her own. Apart from the armored suit she'd gotten from that crazy redhead in Megaton for promising to help her with her stupid survival guide and the assault rifle she'd salvaged from Grayditch, Isabel was completely on her own. The rifle was almost breaking, too. And it had a lot of kick, if her bloody hands were any testament to that. _Damn it all._

There was no coffee out here. Getting her hands on some fucking clean water was hard enough. No shelter. No heating system for whenever it got cold. No food dispensers. No safety. No order.

No hope.

Isabel asked herself for the umpteenth time what the fuck she was doing here. She was here to find her father, not establish a life in the Wasteland, for God's sake. Maybe, when she found James, they could convince the Overseer to let them back in…

Well, depending on who the Overseer's replacement was. Isabel squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the images of the Overseer slumped on the floor, his brains bashed out with a baseball bat. She couldn't imagine Amata's fury when she'd seen the body. They'd been best friends once...

Isabel sighed. The sooner this was over, the sooner she could settle down and decide what to do with herself. After all, she doubted that she'd run into any trouble in the Jefferson Memorial.

She shook her head. _Go to the Memorial. Wait for the shops to open. Go to the Memorial. Wait for the shops to open._

Finally, she made a decision. Tired of sitting around, Isabel shouldered her old assault rifle, her relatively new pistol, and her small backpack of supplies, and made her way down the stairs to the bridge.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Harkness<strong>_

For the life of him, Harkness could not fall asleep.

He lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling and waiting patiently for sleep to come, but his heart was pounding and his face felt extremely hot and although he was almost dead with exhaustion, he couldn't sleep. Groaning, he turned on his side and covered his head with the pillow, eyeing the bunk opposite him. It was occupied by some rookie whose name he couldn't remember for the life of him, but that didn't matter. He was the only one awake, anyway.

A metallic creak tore through his thoughts and Harkness started from his half-sleeping stupor, suddenly fully awake. Must be the stairwell metal complaining again, he thought, but the stairwell was empty and it didn't make much noise unless there was something moving on it…

_Or someone…_

Suddenly Harkness was on his feet, grabbing his rifle and making his way down the stairs as quickly and quietly as he could. The intruder remained a step ahead of him, but he was convinced he knew who it was. He descended flight after flight of stairs, his heart hammering in his chest. Was Vera right? Was he going to pay for his actions just an hour or so after they'd been taken? He hoped not, but he didn't know if he was going to be quite so lucky.

Finally, sweating a little at the brow, Harkness burst out the door and onto the bridge to see _her_ standing at the bridge.

"Hold it," he ordered. Speak of the devil, it was her. Vault girl jumped and whirled around, her eyes wide with alarm. In an instant, her hand flew to her pistol.

"Bad idea," he told her, hefting his own rifle. She stared at him for a moment longer before slowly lowering the gun.

"What are you doing out here?" she demanded.

"I was going to ask you the same thing."

"I'm leaving. That's all you need to know."

"Where are you going? It's awfully late."

"That's none of your business."

"Actually, it is," Harkness reminded her. "I keep order on this ship. Anything out of the ordinary is none of my business."

"Well, like I said, _Chief_…that's your title, isn't it, Chief?...I'm just passing through."

"Not good enough."

Isabel threw her hands up, revealing the full extent of her damaged palms. "What the hell do you want me to say?" she snapped. "That I'm on a secret mission to find the lost water chip? That I'm a secret agent from Vault 101 stealing secrets from Rivet City? Because I assure you, I'm neither. I'm not going to cause any trouble on your precious ship, okay? I'm leaving now."

She slung her pistol into its holster and stormed off across the bridge. Harkness raised his rifle, watching him go through the iron sights. He debated pulling the trigger. _Just to be safe_. But a part of him disagreed. Finally, he lowered the gun and let her go.

_Wait and see_, he told himself. It would have to be enough.


	3. Right Through the Walls

3: Right Through the Walls

Had Isabel been less of a sensation with Rivet City, he might have forgotten her. As it was, there was something about the girl that he couldn't quite shake from his mind. There were plenty of strange folk passing through Rivet City, but she was a different kind of strange. Maybe it was because she'd been fresh out of a Vault. As he made his rounds, he heard little snippets here and there of people who somehow knew that she'd briefly visited the ship. Doctor Li looked significantly more troubled and preoccupied than usual when Harkness paid the lab a visit, which made him wonder how the girl knew of the doctor. He asked her, and the only response he got was "It's personal." It was very strange.

She knew Madison, somehow. But he couldn't make the connection.

In the Weatherly Hotel, Vera was bragging (for lack of a better word) about having met Isabel. "She's strange," she proclaimed to all who would listen, "but very sweet. If there's one thing the Vault taught her, it was manners. She thanked me kindly for her time and left. Didn't drop me a single cap, though."

Immediately the chatter rose up around him. "The girl from Vault 101? Oh my—what did she look like?"

Harkness cringed a little when he heard that. It was a bit of an odd, petty question to ask, but Vera immediately launched into a detailed description of what the girl looked like. "Her hands were like a slave's," she remarked with some sympathy. "She asked me for some clean bandages, poor girl. I would've charged her any other night, but she was just too sweet to turn down."

He had to raise his eyebrows at that one. As sweet as she seemed, Vera typically didn't miss an opportunity to turn a profit, but maybe he didn't know her as well as he thought. She was full of surprises, it seemed. Tired of the banter, Harkness left the room without waiting for his coffee. It wasn't like he needed it, anyway.

More out of routine than anything, he made his way down to the science lab again. He was about to turn a corner to greet Dr. Li when he heard voices, hushed and anxious, talking about Rivet City's latest visitor. He stopped, hoping that he hadn't been noticed.

"You told her what?" That was Janice, more worried and angry than he'd ever seen her. "She went to the Memorial? By herself?"

"What was I supposed to tell her?" demanded Madison. "She wanted to know where James had gone, so I gave her the best lead I could."

"You shouldn't have sent her running off by herself to the Memorial! What if James comes back? What will he say if his daughter winds up dead?"

"I know," she said worriedly. "But there's nothing we can do now."

They abruptly fell silent. Harkness was sure that they'd realized he was there, but they said nothing. After a moment, he quietly left and headed to the flight deck.

Had Isabel been less of a sensation with Rivet City, he might have forgotten her. As it was, he stood on the flight deck now, looking out in the direction of Vault 101. What secrets were there? What was he missing? He then thought of Megaton. What stories might the people there have of this person? He couldn't stop himself from asking the questions. He felt that somehow, her fate had been inevitably welded to his from the moment they'd first met. Perhaps it'd been the eyes, maybe it had been the simple fact that he'd chosen to be curious. But there was no going back now.

Below him, he heard shouts. There was a commotion going on down on the bridge. Suddenly alert, Harkness leaned over the edge of the flight deck, alarmed. Fear and dread rose in his chest as he contemplated the worst. There were three figures on the opposite end of the bridge supporting a limp fourth figure. From his vantage point, he could see blood. Below him, he could hear Sievers, the bridge guard, screaming for someone to find Doctor Preston. Suddenly fully seized in reality, he ran down the stairs to see what was going on.

The Vault girl had left Rivet City with a backpack, a battered rifle, and injured hands. She returned with no backpack, no rifle, and a frightening degree of injury.

Harkness had never seen anyone so riddled with bullets and still breathing, but she was full of surprises. Her sad excuse for armor was shot to hell, the ceramic plating under the flimsy blue fabric shattered and riddled with lead. He had to guess that it was the armor that'd saved her life. She hadn't made it back by herself—one of the merchants had found her near the Jefferson Memorial, bleeding to death. They probably would have left her, too, if it weren't for the jumpsuit. As it was, Harkness looked on with a stony expression as they took her to the infirmary. For some reason, he felt the need to keep an eye on her, so he did. Preston didn't argue.

She screamed a little at first, her head thrashing from side to side as the doctor spilled Scotch over her wounds before proceeding to operate. She looked so pathetic on the operating table that he almost felt sorry for her, but then he remembered that look she'd given him. Instead, he just watched and wondered how she'd managed to get into such a predicament. Doctor Preston called him over to hold her head, and he did. Forced to look her in the eye the entire time. Her eyes were glassy and vacant from the effects of Med-x, but she was still in pain. The bullets had hit her mostly in the shoulder and torso; they'd miraculously missed her head and vital organs. Harkness quietly counted the bullets in the tray. By the way she was screaming, he'd thought her to be riddled with lead, but he only saw three. _She'll live_, he thought.

He didn't know why he stayed when it was all over. In retrospect, he wondered if he'd intended to question or kill her. The doctor had sedated her completely somewhere during the process of stopping the bleeding and taking out bullets, something of which Harkness was grateful. He wasn't comfortable with the way she looked at him. Instead, he watched her sleep, wondering.

She knew Madison, somehow, but he couldn't make the connection. Clearly, by the way the scientists had been talking, they were somehow familiar with the father. They'd both passed by here, but if Vaults were truly as secure as the Wasteland believed, they'd been in that bunker for their entire lives. How she could have known someone on the outside was unfathomable. Harkness entertained for a moment that she was actually indeed from the Wastes, but he quickly dispelled that notion from his mind. None of it made _sense_. Unless...but Harkness shrugged off the possibility. Surely it was impossible.

He didn't know how long he sat there, watching her, but when he finally came to his senses, Preston had decided that he'd overstayed his welcome.

"I should keep an eye on her," he said quietly. "I don't think she'll be a security risk."

Harkness nodded slowly, getting up from his seat. His legs were stiff. "Let me know when she wakes up," he said, his voice a little hoarse from disuse. He didn't say why. He didn't quite know, himself. The doctor didn't ask.

"Will do, Chief," he said. "Take care."

Harkness nodded politely at the doctor and left the room.

* * *

><p>He made his way to Gary's Galley for lunch. Rivet City was kind to him today; nobody was causing any trouble and the ship was relatively quiet. He was left in peace to entertain his thoughts. He almost didn't notice when he almost bumped into someone. He jumped a foot in the air and looked up, surprised and a little annoyed.<p>

It was the merchant who'd brought in the vault girl. Harkness awkwardly cleared his throat, giving the man a polite nod. "What do you need?" he asked gruffly, almost on impulse.

"Oh, well -" The other man looked rather embarrassed. "I was wondering where you'd taken the girl we brought in. I managed to get her things." He held up a blue backpack and a broken Chinese rifle. Harkness regarded him suspiciously for a moment. Then he relented.

"She's in the infirmary right now," he said. "Here, I'll take them to her."

"Uh -" The merchant blinked. "Okay."

Harkness didn't respond. He turned on his heel and returned to the doctor's with her things.

Preston raised his eyebrows at him when he came in. "You're back," he remarked.

"I have her personal effects," he replied, holding them up. The doctor looked at the rifle with a bemused look on his face. He took the rifle from him and examined it, shaking his head in disbelief.

"No wonder she got in such a foxhole," he remarked. "You can't fight with a broken hunk of metal like that."

He shrugged. "Well, I guess some people find out the hard way," he said. For some reason, he had to fight back a smile. Preston merely shrugged.

"If you can, find her another weapon," he told him. "I've spent a lot of time on her. I'd hate for her to have to come back so soon because she didn't have a proper gun."

Harkness paused, surprised by the doctor's request. He blinked. "Okay, I'll keep an eye out," he replied finally.

"Thank you, Harkness," Preston said gratefully. Taking it as a cue that he was no longer needed, the security chief gave a polite nod, one last look at the girl on the bed, and left.


End file.
